The Leaper's Future
by KreativeKristine
Summary: What happens when Sam Beckett leaps into Lt. Worf? on the Enterprise in the 24th century? QL/TNG crossover
1. Chapter 1

A LEAPER'S FUTURE

Author's note and disclaimer:I do not own the copyrighted characters for Quantum Leap or Star Trek: The Next Generation. This cross-over was just a product of my active imagination. This is supposed to take place between the last two episodes of QL.

Dr.SAM Beckett never returned home.

_-Mirror Image_

Alamogordo, NM March 31, 2000

11What the hell do you mean you can't find him!" Al Calavicci exploded, shaking his fist at the large, purple orb that was Ziggy's main component. "You just had him."

"I cannot explain Admiral," Ziggy calmly stated. "Dr. Beckett seems to have disappeared from the space-time continuum immediately after he leaped out of Elvis Presley."

"We've tried everything since this happened, Admiral," Gooshie explained, "neural searches, scans around the complex; we even tried to trace any residuals Dr. Beckett may have left in the Waiting Room. Our hands are tied until a new leaper appears."

The normally calming and revitalizing state of being that

surrounded Sam Beckett during a leap was nothing more than a stormy, jolting, lurching reality. When the blue light finally faded out, the physicist found himself in an environment that was as foreign to him as the delivery room is to a newborn baby. Everything was quite futuristic and down right odd: from the clothing worn by himself and his company to the very room they occupied.

"Pssst," the man to Sam's right nudged him in the ribs to gain his attention. "The captain asked you a question, Lieutenant."

"Excuse me?" a still shaken Sam turned to face the nudger, only to be taken by surprise by the curious device that covered the man's eyes. "What's that thing?" Sam asked almost in a whisper, indicating the weird apparatus.

"Worf, is there something wrong?" Geordi La Forge faced Sam with a mask of worry molding his features and possibly his hidden eyes.

"Uh ... I ..." Sam looked around at all the faces and directed his response to the pale man wearing a gold and black uniform that resembled Geordi's and his own. "Could you repeat that question, Captain?"

"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Worf?" Data asked in a voice

that reminded the time leaper of the computer that made his leaps a success. "I am not the captain."

"... Yeah, I'm fine ... I just " Sam stopped dead in his

tracks when he caught his reflection in the window behind Data. The image was the last thing Sam expected to see. Instead of seeing someone who bore different physical attributes and nothing more, the dumbstruck Sam found himself staring into the eyes of a fierce looking Neanderthal with a dark face, pointed forehead, and long black hair that seemed to grow only from the back of his head. Frightened, Sam rose from his seat, never taking his eyes off the animal-like face that haunted him from that window pane. "Oh . . . BOY!"

A strange feeling overcame Counselor Deana Troi , but she dismissed it at once believing there was no real reason for alarm.

"Worf, what the devil has come over you?" Captain Jean-luc Piccard asked in tones that sounded too sharp to be a question of concern alone.

"Nothing," Sam clipped with inflections that simply meant 'Leave me alone already'. "I'm telling you I'm fine."

After receiving a short glance from her captain, Dr. Beverly Crusher rose from her chair and pulled a curious looking instrument from her lab coat pocket. Unsure what to think, Sam stared as she opened the gizmo and pointed it directly at him. At that second, the time traveler took several steps back and said in a voice bordering on panic, "What the hell do you think you're doing! Get that thing away from me!"

"It's just a tricorder," Dr. Crusher countered calmly. "You act like you'd never seen one before."

""Well . . . that's because I haven't." Sam wanted desperately to get out of the situation that put him in an unwanted spot light. "Sir ..." Sam met the eyes of the two men at the head of the conference table, hoping to address the right officer. "I would like to ... go lie down. I don't really feel like myself right now."

"Would you like me to escort you to Sick Bay?" Dr. Crusher offered.

No thanks," Sam declined. "My room will be just fine."

After a sigh, Piccard said, "Very well. Lieutenant, you may return to your quarters. We'll brief you on this matter at a later time."

"Thank you . . . Captain," Sam said as he turned to leave the

Redi room.

"There's something peculiar going on, Captain," Commander Wil Riker whispered to his superior. "I've never seen Worf behave like this."

Piccard didn't speak. He simply nodded to Riker and leaned back in his chair.


	2. Chapter 2

"Any luck, Gooshie?" Al asked as he approached the programmer from behind. "Have you found Sam yet?"

"We're still having problems. There is someone in the Waiting Room now, but we just can't seem to get a fix on Dr. Beckett."

"How can we have a leaper in the Waiting Room and still not be able to locate Sam?" the admiral wanted to know.

"Every time I run a location check, Ziggy keeps saying that Dr. Beckett is in the year 2371. That had to be a mistake, so I assumed that Ziggy meant 1972. But still no lock on Sam."

"Let me assure you, Gooshie," Ziggy countered in an arrogant tone, "that I am not capable of making mistakes."

"Oh, yeah," Al fired back, running out of patience, "and what do ya expect me to do, Laser-head!"

"Talk to whoever leaped into the Waiting Room. Unless the leaper's memory is magnafluxed, I'm sure you'll see I'm telling you the truth."

"Even if you are, Sam couldn't possibly leap into the year

2371 ... I mean . . . Think about it. Sam would have to live to be four-hundred years old." Feeling that there was no way to win an argument with a hybrid computer, Al threw his hands up and allowed them to drop to his sides. In a tone that could mean 'I give up',he announced with a sigh, "If you need me, I'll be in the Waiting Room."

As Al started for the door, Dr. Beeks' voice transmitted over the admiral's wrist communicator. "Al, I'm having the Leaper rushed to Sick Bay. Meet me there and I'll explain."

"I'm on my way." When Al reached the Project infirmary, he was greeted by a very worried Dr. Beeks. "What happened, Verbina?"

"We were performing a routine physical examination on the Leaper, and his vital signs were extremely abnormal . . . his temperature, his red cell count . . . and when we hooked him up to the monitors, they showed he was near death. I think you'd better see him."

As Dr. Beeks beckoned, Al followed her into the room where their latest 'guest' was being held. Both were surprised to see the stranger sitting up in the bed about to unhook himself from the machines.

"No!" Al cried out seizing the patient's wrist. "Don't do that! You have to stay put "

"What for!" the other man protested sharply.

"Trust me; you're in no condition to be up and walking around.

"Who are you?" the stranger demanded. "Am I your prisoner?"

"I'm Admiral Al Calavicci; and, no, you're not a prisoner."

"Then what am I doing here!"

"Al , " Dr. Beeks intervened. "Whatever we do we mustn't upset him. In his current state, there's no telling how he might react."

"Well, you're ... uh ... part of a top secret experiment. I can't explain it, but uh . . . " Al labored to come up with an excuse that would pose the least amount of danger to the obviously disoriented man in the bed. "I'm gonna have to ask you some questions "

"I do not remember taking part in any top secret experiment!"

"You . . . were chosen to do it."

"Nobody ordered me to come here. You abducted me!"

"Oh, God," Al moaned. He turned and winked at Dr. Beeks. "His memory's gone too." Al then turned to face the visitor again. "Something went wrong," he improvised, "and you lost consciousness. We think it may have done something to your memory too. Look, if you wanna get outta this, you're gonna have to trust me and do what the doctors and I tell you."

"Which is?"

**"We're gonna have to keep you on the monitors until your vitals get back tonormal, and I'm gonna have to ask you some questions to see just how much you remember . . . and I need you to answer them honestly."**

**"A Klingon does not lie." the Leaper stated.**

**"Yeah," Al reacted **in disbelief. "Do you remember your

name?"

"I am Worf, son of Mogh."

Under the impression that this was a strangeoid who couldn't remember his last name, Al continued to question and enter the answers he received into his hand-link. "Where do you come from, Mr. Worf?"

"The Klingon Home World. I spent my first years on the Kittamer Outpost,

and when my parents were killed, I came to live on Earth with a human couple who adopted me."

"Verbina, " Al whispered to the psychiatrist, "is he on drugs?"

"No, Al," Dr. Beeks replied. "Now, I know this is a little strange, but you have to humor him if you want his cooperation."

"How do you expect me to find out where Sam is when this

nozzle is quoting the Sci-Fi network?"

"He might jus't be a die-hard science fiction buff playing a role. All I can tell you is to humor him for now, and maybe when he becomes more comfortable and starts to recover, the truth will come out."

All right, all right, I'll go along with it," Al sighed. _Oh, God, Sam's leaped into a mental patient. _"Uh, when you grew up, did you go back to your home planet?"

"I ... I ..." Worf found himself unable to answer this question. "I cannpt remember. I have no idea what I do!" he began to panic. "I only know that I am a warrior , - - nothing else!"

"Now don't panic," Al tried to calm the uneasy man. "Let's stick to what you can remember. How about the date ... Do you remember the date?"

"Star date 48124.3."

"What is that in solar years, Pal?" Al was getting fed up with this character's science fiction babble.

"November 1, 2371!" Worf snapped, displeased at his

interrogator's sarcasm.

At last, something seemed to fit. The date Worf had given him scrolled across the tiny screen of Al's hand-link. "Bingo! Ziggy was right," he said to himself before turning to leave the sterile room. "Let me know if there's any problem, Verbina," he ordered. "I've gotta go see Sam; he's probably goin' nutso by now." With that he quickly exited, leaving Dr. Beeks alone with a totally confused Worf.


	3. Chapter 3

"excuse me," Sam called out, stopping a young, blonde officer in a blue uniform. "Couldja tell me where my quarters are?"

". . . Deck eight, where else?" the officer replied with a strange look crawling across her face.

"Thanks," Sam said as he started for an open turbo lift. There was another man inside. When the doors swished shut, the companion asked Sam where he wanted to go. "Deck eight," the leaper answered after some hesitation. In about a second, the doors slid open, but the other man didn't step out of the car.

"Sir," he said, "this is your deck."

"Oh ... oh yeah. Thank you." Sam stepped into the corridor. He then bumped into another officer and asked which quarters were his, and the ensign shrugged and indicated the door directly behind him. With a nod, Sam thanked the other man and entered his alter-ego's home.

I've _leaped into a black man, a pregnant woman, even a chimp; but I was not prepared for a leap into E.T. I found out that I leaped into Lieutenant Worf, a senior officer aboard a Galaxy Class ship called the Enterprise, and that I was Chief of Security. Worf's personal logs told me that he was a Klingon, some kind of an alien warrior race; and that I was the only one of my kind serving in an organization called Starfleet. Now that I know something about this . . . person that I've replaced, all I need is for Al to appear and tell me what wrong I have to right in order to leap._

Sam spent the next hour and a half studying Worf's logs when the front doors swished open and a Klingon child came stomping in. Sam knew from the entries that this mini alien was his --Worf's son, Alexander.

"Hey, Alexander, how's it goin'?" Sam greeted, turning around in the swivel chair to face the boy.

"Fine," Alexander mumbled flatly.

"Is there something wrong, Son?" Sam asked. "Didja have a bad day at school?"

"No," the little Klingon snapped as he pulled a paper from his jacket pocket, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into a waste basket.

"Something musta happened; otherwise you wouldn't be acting

like this. What happened? You can tell your old man."

"Nothing happened, Father."

Sam reached down and fished the discarded page from the roundfile and opened it, only to discover a bold, red D at the top right-hand corner. "You didn't want me to see this, didyoo?" Sam questioned calmly.

"No, Sir," Alexander whispered.

"Didjoo think I would start yelling atchoo and order you to study harder?"

Alexander only hung his head and quietly breathed, "Yes."

"I'm not a monster, Son. As long as you didjer best I won't be angry. Did you study?"

"Yes I did; you saw me!" Alexander was becoming defensive.

"All right, all right. Calm down. Do you think you're the only kid to get a bad grade on a test? It happens to everybody." Sam squatted down on the floor, so he could talk at Alexander's level. "It's not the first test you messed up, and it won't _be _the last. Failure is a part of life. It lets us know where our weaknesses are. and we need to work to make those weaknesses better. Sometimes we might not be able to do this, so we have to concentrate on our strengths. This is one test; you can always bounce back by working hard to do better next time."

Instead of finding comfort in Sam's speech, Alexander became troubled. He never knew his strict father to be so compassionate and understanding. He expected punishment, not a heart-to-heart talk. "Father, are you okay ... I mean, you're acting kinda funny."

"I'm okay, Son," was Sam's reply.

**Spooked by his father's odd behavior, Alexander slipped away into his room, not saying another word.**

**Sam was about to return his attention to Worf's computer logs when a more familiar wooshing sound echoed through the room. Al stepped through the white porthole of light about to sneak up on his best friend and startle him for the fun of it. However, when Sam turned to face him, Al found he was the one to age ten years in ten seconds.**

**"Oh my Goooood!" he screamed, clapping his hands over his face and dropping the hand-link. "What the hell is going on here; you look like a ... like a---"**

"A space mutant ..." Sam completed his partner's statement.

"Al, What does Ziggy say _I _have to put right in order to leap outta here?"

Still in shock, Al picked up his link and, with shaking hands, began to strike the miniature keys. "All Ziggy's giving me is the date, nothing else. Just that it's November 1, 2371 "

"2371!" Sam interrupted. "That's impossible, Al; _I _can only leap within my own lifetime."

"I don't know what happened, Sam. If it wasn't for the guy in the Waiting Room, I wouldn't have found you at all. According to Ziggy, you kinda plopped off the space-time continuum after your last leap "

"Plopped off?"

"Look, I can't explain, Sam. All I know is we have a nut case in the Waiting Room talking like a character in one of the books you used to read; and if that isn't bad enough, he's near death."

"Are you telling me He's dying?" a shocked Sam speared a wideeyed glance the hologram's way.

"Well, we have him hooked up to monitors, and his vitals are way off the map."

The two men were so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn't notice a distraught looking Alexander sneaking past them and slipping out the door.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Sam questioned, concerned for the man who involuntarily traded places and identities with him.

"Beeks is working on it. Boy, what a nozzle!" Al began to complain loudly.

"Al ."

"Out of all the people we've had in the Waiting Room, I've never seen one with as big an attitude as this Worf character," the observer continued to whine.

"Al, will you stop complaining about--"

"He's snippy, and I think he's a little messed in the head. He keeps talking like he's some sort of space alien from some King World."

"Look, I don't care where he's from!" Sam was growing impatient with his partner. "Just go back and dissect Ziggy if you have to; but don't come back until you find out what I have to do to leap back into the human race."

"Sam, you are hundreds of years into the future; there's no way Ziggy can find anything on Worf or anyone else he comes in contact with. There are no events, no deaths that we can predict, and Worf sure as hell won't be much help either. He can't remember his last name let alone his job. I have a feeling that on this leap you'll know more than anybody else."

"Will you just try! I found out that I'm aboard some kinda space ship, so see if you can access anything having to do with NASA, the Space Race, or an organization called Starfleet. " Sam ordered.

"Starfleet!" Al cried out in tones that said, "You must be nuts'. "What the hell is Starfleet?

"Never mind; just go!" the physicist snarled through gritted teeth.

"Okay, okay, okay. Starfleet . . . yeah right," Al grunted as . he keyed the exit sequence and disappeared through the passage of light.


	4. Chapter 4

As he ran down the ship's corridor, Alexander felt his anxiety grow in intensity. Footfalls and palpitations seemed to sound off in unison, and beads of sweat began to roll down his neck. The little Klingon was so preoccupied with his father's sudden change in behavior and his own fear that he didn't see Counselor Troi approaching. Everything came to an abrupt halt when the two ran right into each other.

**Seeing the look on the child's face and sensing the mixture of emotions from the boy, she asked calmly, "Alexander, is there anything wrong?"**

**"It's Father," Alexander panicked with tears forming in his eyes. "He's acting real weird. He didn't yell at me when I got a D on my test. He was acting all nice and ..."**

"And what?"

"I heard him talking to himself."

**"He was probably thinking out loud.," Troi replied.**

"He was standing there talking to someone who isn't there! There's gotta be something wrong with him!"

Troi took a second to think, and she remembered the three officers that had already come to her reporting that Worf was behaving strangely. She also recalled the brief sensation she had experienced and dismissed in the Rediroom. Realizing there may very well be something wrong, she drew in a deep breath and knelt before the mini alien.

"I don't think there's anything to worry about, Alexander," she said primarily to comfort the boy. "Your father may be under a lot of stress right now. Why don'choo go and play; I'll see what I can do, all right?"

Alexander simply nodded before running off, and Troi started for the nearest

turbo lift. In a matter of seconds, she made it to the Rediroom and pushed the button that activated a high pitched beep, informing those inside that someone was about to enter.

Hearing the pulse, Piccard leaned back in his chair and called, "Come."

The doors slid open, and Troi stepped in. "Captain," she began, "I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Counselor, sit down."

"Captain, I'm very concerned about Lieutenant Worf. Ensign Parsons, Chief Keavert, and Lieutenant Stewart have all come to me reporting that Worf couldn't find his quarters; Alexander is all upset that his father is acting strangely and talking to himself."

"Could he have possibly contracted a parasite during his last Away mission?"

"I don't think so. During the briefing, I sensed something, disorientation and. intense fear."

**"If you sensed something was wrong, why didn't you report it at the briefing?" Piccard was curious.**

**"I didn't think anything of it. I believed he might be under a great deal of stress. Once I saw him recoil from Beverly's tricorder, and when I heard all these reports, I became quite concerned. unless we do something about it, Worf could suffer a mental breakdown."**

"What do you suggest we do, Counselor?"

**"Captain, I would like to suggest that Worf undergo a series of psychological and physiological tests."**

"Agreed." Piccard tapped his com-badge. "Piccard to Lieutenant Worf." There was no response, and Piccard spoke more sternly. "Mr. Worf, acknowledge!"

"Uh . . . Worf here." Sam's voice emulated from the captain's badge.

"Will you join Counselor Troi and me in Sick Bay?"

"I'm comin'," the leaper answered timidly.

Piccard and Troi had entered the ship's medical facility to find Dr. and Wesley Crusher engaged in casual conversation.

"Captain," the young, former cadet turned to acknowledge his friend and role model.

"Mr. Crusher," Piccard simply answered as he faced Wesley. "I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to visit with you while you've been on board."

"I understand, Sir," Wesley nodded. "You're a busy man."

"And I'm afraid that my being here now isn't for social purposes either. Counselor Troi and I are concerned that there may be something wrong with Worf. Doctor, we would like you to run a series of tests on him."

"What's the matter with Worf?" Dr. Crusher asked as she approached the captain.

"We are hoping the tests will give us an answer," Troi added.

Concerned for the alien he had always found fascinating, Wesley requested, "permission to stay during the exams, Captain."

"Granted," the superior officer replied.

Just then, the doors swished open and Sam stepped into the room. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Dr. Crusher would like to run a battery of tests on you to see if--"

"That's not necessary; I'm telling **you **I'm fine!" the physicist protested. "I don't need any te--"

"I'm giving you an order, Mr. Worf!"

"Yes, Sir," Sam sighed.

"It's going to be all right, Worf," Dr. Crusher assured the uneasy time traveler. Before producing her tricorder, she explained in a gentle tone, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

Noticing the apprehension that ran across "Worf's face, Wesley glanced at Troi and whispered, "He's afraid of a tricorder? What's his problem ... I mean, Mom's run these tests on him hundreds of times."

Seeing the readouts that came up on her hand-held device, Dr. Crusher looked up at Piccard. "Jean-Luc, I would like to have Worf admitted for further testing."

"Is there something wrong, Beverly?"

"I'm not sure. I'm getting some very unusual readings here. If I didn't know better, I'd think Worf was a human."

Sam's eyes were two hazel saucers of surprise, and his entire face froze at the doctor's last sentence: after all, he had to have everyone believing he was the person he had replaced in order to leap.

"The tricorder might be faulty," the ship's commanding officer suggested as he headed for the door. "Keep me informed, Doctor," was the last thing he said before exiting.

For the next two hours, Sam found himself undergoing every physiological exam imaginable and plenty more that he had never heard of before. The curious gadgets the doctor used on him seemed very frightening. Dr. Crusher tried to make the ordeal as relaxing as she could, but her explanations and comforting words didn't begin to make Sam feel better. In fact, his Confusion and nervousness grew worse when Troi began to ask him several questions that only his Klingon counterpart could answer. Leaving her very tired patient to rest in bed, Dr. Crusher summoned the captain, and he joined her in her office along with Troi and Wesley.

"I've tried everything. Bio-scans, DNA and RNA scans. Even his vitals show the same thing."

"Which is?" Piccard inquired.

"There was nothing wrong with that tricorder. According to all the exams, Worf is a human. "His body temperature, his heart beat, his blood pressure, even his blood type isn't the same."

"What are you saying?" Piccard demanded.

"That man I just examined may look and sound like Lieutenant Worf, but he has the body and mind of a human."

"Beverly, that's impossible!"

"I'm telling you, Captain, That man is a human. He's a man in

his mid forties and is in excellent health. Also, when I examined his spinal cord, there was absolutely no evidence of surgical reattachment."

"Doctor, That operation took place years ago. He may have healed to the point that the surgery is undetectable."

"Captain," Troi intervened, "I also noticed something was wrong during the exams."

Piccard turned to face the Betazoid officer with prompting eyes.

"He couldn't answer the simplest questions: his birthday, family members' names, not to mention his duties aboard this ship. The emotions I sensed from him were quite unusual too. He was nervous and confused; the real Worf wouldn't let anyone see him in a vulnerable state of mind."

In the small cubical of a room, Sam found that lying around and resting was making him even more apprehensive. He tumbled out of the bed and began to pace the floor, all the time thinking about this situation and how he was no closer to finding out his mission than when he first leaped into this bizarre reality so many centuries from his own time. He knew Al might not be of any help, but he still anticipated that imaging Chamber door opening to reveal the hologram bearing good news for the time traveler. But Al did not show. Growing more tense by the second, Sam paced faster, and rivers of sweat poured down the back of his neck, and he didn't see the doors slide open to admit the four officers. When he heard the footsteps, Sam spun and jerked at the sight of the company that had just startled him.

"Don't do that!" he cried in terror, his head about to burst with the feelings that seemed to build up as does soda pop in a bottle that has been shaken. "Do ya have to sneak up on a guy like that!"

After seeing the glances from Dr. Crusher and Troi, Piccard sighed, "Yes, I see what you mean, Counselor."

Once he collected himself, Sam fixed his eyes on the redheaded doctor and asked, "Do you have the test results, Doctor?" At the silence, he continued, "Am I free to go now?"

None of the Starfleet personnel could find the right words to say without being blunt. Finally, after a brief pause, Dr. Crusher said, "Worf, I don't know how to tell you this, but . . . according to all the tests, they show that you're -- a human."

"No way!" the scientist snapped in denial. "I'm a Klingon! I always have been, and I always will be!"

"Counselor?" Piccard glanced at the dark-haired woman and prompted her to input her opinion.

"I think he's hiding something, Captain. There is something

he doesn't want us to know."

Yet, another brief pause with the empty sounds of silence had elapsed before Piccard broke the void. "Doctor, there seem to be

some discrepancies between the test results and what Mr. Worf is telling us. I think we should keep him in the brig until we can get to the bottom of this."

Catching piccard's wink, Dr. Crusher replied in agreement. "Yes, you're probably right, Captain."

Sam did not like the sound of this; the last thing he wanted to do was get Worf into trouble and possibly thrown out of Starfleet and into an asylum. After all, he had leaped in to put matters right, not to make everything worse.

"No!" the physicist burst out. "You can't do that. You can't

lock me up, Captain." Feeling cornered and seeing no way out of

such a difficult situation, Sam decided he would have to break the rules and confess his true identity. "Look, I can explain everything . . . . "

"Please do," Piccard prodded.

"I am not Lieutenant Worf. My name is Sam Beckett, Doctor Samuel Beckett. I'm a quantum physicist turned time traveler, and I 'leap' around from one year to another, reliving little bits and pieces of other peoples' lives. Whenever I put someone else's life back on track, I leap out and wind up in another person's time and body. That's all; I temporarily inhabit someone else's body and try to change their future for the better."

"You travel around in time?" the captain stared curiously into Sam's eyes.

"Yes, Sir. In 1995, I created a time travel experiment that would enable me to bounce around anywhere within my own lifetime, but something went wrong and I fell off my own time-line. That's why I'm here. That's why everything's so strange to me: your clothes, your gadgets,everything. I don't belong here, and I can't leap out until I put right what Worf did wrong."

"You know, " Wesley intervened, "I read about something like

that. Back in the late twentieth century, quantum physicists would theorize about time travel, but they never quite made it. A professor at a top technical school came up with a string theory on how to use quantum physics to enable a man to travel in time. He and_ a _student of his believed that one day it would be possible to revisit one's own past and even wind up in one's own future. The professor's name was Sabastian Lonegro; they didn't give the student's name."

"I was that student. I was the one who came up with the string theory of quantum leaping; Professor Lonegro helped me," Sam insisted.

"Dr. Beckett," Captain Piccard rejoined the conversation, "if you've replaced Lieutenant Worf, then would you tell me where is he now?"

"He's back in my time. You don't have to worry about him;" Sam didn't want to alarm his present company by telling them that Worf could be dying, "my people are taking good care of him. Once I leap out, Worf will come back good as new. He might be a little disoriented and his memory might be a little fuzzy, but he'll be all right."

"Do you have any idea what your mission is in order to 'leap'?" Troi asked.

"I don't know. My contact is still working on it. Looks like I might be here for a while."

Still somewhat in shock after hearing the leaper's words, the three officers and Wesley passed long stares to one another. What could they make of this stranger? Was he telling them the truth? No one was sure.


	5. Chapter 5

_CAPTAIN'S LOG: STARDATE 48124.5 Lieutenant Worf has been confined to quarters following a series of medical tests that showed rather baffling results. Now my senior staff and I face a matter that may not only concern the situation regarding my security officer, but that of the Federation as well._

"It's impossible!" Riker insisted. "How could a twentieth century physicist just show up in the twenty-forth century if he could only 'time travel within his own lifetime? There's something fishy going on, and I don't like what I'm hearing."

"Whether we think it's possible or not isn't the issue now, Number One," Piccard stated. "What we need to find out now is who this Dr. Beckett is and why he's here."

"But traveling in time?"

"It could be possible, Commander." Data added as he joined the

conversation. "For many years, quantum physicists have been theorizing that time travel would someday become a reality. Perhaps this Dr. Beckett has stumbled onto the solution and has found that he can not only move back and forth within his own time, but anywhere from the birth of the universe to its end."

"He wants you to believe that, Data. For all we know, this could be one of Q's tricks."

"I don't think it's Q, Number One. If it were, he would have popped in to watch all the fun by now," Piccard shrugged, dismissing the notion from his head.

"The Chief of Security aboard a Federation starship has been acting strangely, and suddenly turns up missing! Wouldn't you suspect foul play. The federation has several enemies: the Romulans, the Ferengi, the Borg. Except for the captain, who would be the perfect person to kidnap and drill for restricted information? That 'human' could be a shape-shifter who is being coerced by the Romulans to replace Lieutenant Worf while the real Worf is being held aboard an enemy vessel."

"I must admit that is a possibility--" the captain began.

"If he was a shape-shifter or a member of an enemy race, my tests would have shown it," Dr. Crusher objected. "Dr. Beckett has the appearance of a Klingon and the life signs of a normal fortysome-year-old man."

"Deana, Did you sense anything while this 'time traveler was explaining how he ended up here?" Riker wanted to know.

"I sensed no deception from him. He genuinely believes he's from the twentieth century and that he can travel in time. He also seemed to be very frightened and disturbed -- hardly the qualities of an under cover defector. I think we should help him with whatever he needs to do to 'leap' home, and then Worf will return to us."

"Maybe if we look back into the computer under twentieth century Earth scientists and experiments, we might at least find out if, in fact, this Beckett's telling us the truth or it's foul play as Commander Riker says.," Geordi suggested.

"That's a good idea, Mr. La Forge," Piccard nodded in agreement. "You and Commander Riker check all ships logs, duty rosters, and any other information regarding all alien encounters during the last several months. I want you to keep a close watch on Worf's last Away missions and any transporter patterns that may show anomalies of any sort."

"Aye, Sir," Riker and Geordi acknowledged in an uneven unison.

"Mr. Data, I want you, Dr. Crusher, and Counselor Troi to see if you can find any information that may prove that Dr. Beckett is telling the truth about having discovered how to travel through time and how he has managed to virtually replace another living being. "

"Yes, Sir," Data complied.

"Now, until we know one way or another, we are to conduct ourselves and carry out our daily routines as though this DR. Beckett were telling the truth. Dismissed."


	6. Chapter 6

"Computer," Sam directed his words to Worf's food replicator, "how 'bout a cup of hot chocolate with tiny little marshmallows and whipped cream."

In a matter of seconds, a small, silver mug materialized out of nowhere. Although he was slowly getting used to this high-tech, automated environment, sam was still amazed with and somewhat confused by the machines that were a regular part of his temporary comrades' daily lives. He had just taken a sip when he heard a high pitched pulse. The sound was repeated a second later , and Sam realized the beep was coming from the pneumatic doors. Assuming this was a futuristic equivalent to the doorbell, the man stepped to the doors and struck the button that would allow them to slide open. There stood Data with his ever-lasting blank facial expression.

"Data?"

"Am I disturbing you?" the android asked in a polite manner.

_"No." _Sam shook his head and gestured for Data to enter.

"I have done some preliminary research into your background and the entire history of quantum physics," Data began to explain as he perched himself at 'Worf's' computer console, "but I have not found anything on this project of yours. There was no record of time travel having been discovered to date; in fact, there was no record of your ever being born."

"What!"

"There was no mention of a Dr. Samuel Beckett having lived in the mid to late twentieth century--"

"That's impossible!" the biological man snapped in a voice bordering en panic and denial. "Check under John Samuel and Thelma Louise Beckett in Elk Ridge, Indiana in the year 1953. I was born on August 8th around 12:47 p.m."

Data rapidly scrolled through the computer files and found the information Sam requested. "I am sorry," he said. "I do not see your name here. John and Thelrna Beckett had two children: Thomas George, born on January 25, 1946 and Katherine Anne, born on February 27, 1957. There was no Samuel born on August 8, 1953."

"So you're telling me that I don't exist!" Sam cried out. "Let's see," he sighed in an effort to calm himself, "Look under Admiral Albert Calavicci. We met in 1980 and started working on Project Quantum Leap a few years later."

"Calavicci . . . ." Data muttered as he accessed all of AL's records. "It says here that Admiral Calavicci worked on the Starbright Project during the 1980's. He must have gone into early retirement because there is nothing more on him from October 1935 until his death in the year 2019. The cause was said to be lung cancer."

"Those damn cigars," Sam grunted through gritted teeth. "Wait a second," he shot a gaze Data's way as the sudden realization swept over him like a tidal wave during a hurricane. "Look and see if others hav . . . disappeared around the year 1985: Verbina Beeks, Elmer Gooshman, Sammy Jo Fuller, Tina Weaver . . . ."

"There seens to be no record of any of those people from the mid 1980's to the time of their retirement or death."

"This isn't making any sense. People just disappearing around the same period of time ... I was never bor-- Oh, my God, it's a cover-up. That means something musta gone wrong at the Project and the government--" Sam quickly turned and began to pace the floor as he voiced out his thoughts. "Why would the government cover up Project Quantum Leap? And why would they leave gaps in everyone's lives and make it look is if I never existed?" Suddenly a horrible notion closed in around the time traveler, and he stopped his repetitive steps and aimed a long,, desperate gaze into Data's gold eyes. "I'm gonna die on one of my leaps, aren't I. They're covering up the Project because I died before I could get home!" Upon hearing these words coming from his lips, Sam felt the uneasiness close in some more. He was trapped in a box made of despair and the anticipation of his own doom, and this box grew even smaller and smaller by the second. Invisible cloaks of grief, fear, and pain wrapped themselves around the man's heart and closed in on it as a miser's fist clenches around a crisp new hundred dollar bill. Sam's legs then melted into two weary limbs, worn out by the shock, and he made his way to a chair and flopped into it as though he were a worn out rag puppet. "This can't be happening," he choked as tears washed away his vision and rolled one after another down his cheeks.

**"Sir, perhaps you did not die," Data suggested.**

"What?" Sam sprang upright and brushed the tears away with

his sleeve.

"It is possible that your people simply lost contact with you, and your government considered you to be--

"Dead," Sam finished. "That's right, If I turned up missing, the government would assume I was dead and cover up the Project. They would wipe out everything that had to do with my Project, everyone who worked on it, especially me."

"Dr. Beckett, I believe I might be able to help you find a way hone, but I would need to know more about this Project Quantum Leap."

"Got a few hours?"

The fascination with a twentieth century scientist's theories and accomplishments was nothing the android couldn't handle. If he were capable of emotions. Data would feel honored, for he was actually listening to a part of what he would consider to be history. Sam's string theory and the concept of time travel were only accounts that were lightly touched upon in the texts he read as a cadet at the Academy. Data took in everything Sam said right down to the last back slash, decimal point, and exponent. The physicist held no information back, from the first blue prints to that first, premature leap.

"Fascinating," Data commented in a tone that could almost be mistaken for a sigh. "You have discovered the solution to a problem that has even stumped scientists from this century."

"What do you think, Data? Is there any way you can help me get home?"

"You said you 'leaped' before you had a chance to perfect your Retrieval Program," Data began as he activated the computer and rapidly accessed his new knowledge. "If we can attempt to complete the program, and if you can order your contact to follow your instructions to the letter, there would be an excellent chance of a successful retrieval." As the information on the computer screen became available, the android leaned back and pointed out the unfinished equations to his company. "Notice how there are some key components missing, particularly your quantum signature. Also, in order for the program to work, the other leaper's body needs to be placed in the exact same spot where you made your leap out. From the looks of the equipment your people have to go on, the procedure would take several months to complete."

**; "Several **months!"

"Yes. I would, however, suggest that you strengthen your link with your contact. You may 'leap' several more times before the problem is completed. Your contact may also require your help for the duration of the process."

"How do I do that? Al and I had to be together when we first established the link."

"Perhaps if he were to take injections of your DNA, and if he were to have his brain waves altered to more closely resemble yours, your neuron/mason lock would be strengthened by up to 30. Your DNA could be drawn from any blood samples, discarded finger nail clippings, and strands of hair from a brush or comb. I would also suggest that you would have the DNA sequences fed into your main computer. As for altering brain wave patterns, your contact might wish to undergo hypnosis."

Just then, Sam heard the metallic echo of the Imaging Chamber door and turned to see his best friend step through the bright, white square that illuminated the dreary quarters like a miniature case of sunlight.

"Al," Sam whispered, acknowledging the hologram.

"Al?" Data was curious.

"He's my contact." When he noticed that Data was looking around the room for someone he would never see, Sam continued, "Uh, I'm the only one who can see and hear him."

"Sam, there's been no change in Worf's condition; Beeks is really worried about him."

"I think he's supposed to be that way. His vitals are Klingon; they're nothing like ours. I'm sure he's all right, so if he wants to get up, you should let him."

"Wait a second, Sam, how do you know he's . . . . "

"I know because they ran some tests on me and found out I'm not really Worf. **My **vital signs showed up on their machines, not his."

"So you mean we were reading--"

"Klingon vitals." Feeling a sense of urgency that possessed **him **like a dream that leaves its impression for several hours or even days upon awakening, Sam abruptly changed the subject. "Listen, Al," he said with the same seriousness touching his eyes and his words. " I have something very important to tell you, and I want you to do exactly what I tell you. The Project could depend on it. And so could my life."

Dr. Sa_m _Beckett continued **Quantum le**aping for the next five **years.DNA and **brain wave **links p**roved quite helpful during Sam's next leap** Without **this improved connection, Al would never have been able to find his partner in that mining town tavern in the early 1950's. Sam and Al maintained contact for more than 50 of the leaps, and the heroic time travelor finally returned home on June 3, 2005.

Roughly 150 years following Dr. Beckett's death In late2048 and the Project's shut-down, the major equipment used at Project Quantum Leap was modified to become the first Starship's equipment:The Accelerator was the first transporter; the Imaging chamber was an early version of the holodeck; the handlink was a primative tricorder, and Ziggy eventually became a first ship's computer.


End file.
